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Category Archives: Falls

As you have read, I went through a real downer after falling down the stairs. I’m mostly over the episode, the body is mostly healed, and my psyche is on the mend. Along with the trip down the stairs I got my three year endoscopy/colonoscopy and had a trip to the cardiologist. I have an appointment with the gastroenterologist coming up for another butt chewing. Who better than a butt doctor?

The cardiologist wants me to have an echocardiogram to see the extent of scarring on the wall of my heart. I apparently had a heart attack sometime, and there is some damage. I don’t remember anything, and my heart function is fine, but they want to check if there could be a problem in the future.

I go to many of Carol’s doctor appointments as well as mine. I am tired of all the medical offices. The people there are almost always great, but, the waiting sitting around reading six month old People Magazines. I guess this gives old retired people something to do rather than sitting in the recliner watching old Law and Order reruns.

All this medical stuff is scary. A good friend recently had a mild heart attack, but after 40 years of cigarettes, it is seriously scary. He keeps telling me I need more exercise, but it is mostly projection. At some level, however, he is right. He is so scared he devotes much of his time to exercise, mostly pickleball and swimming. When we have coffee he is usually limping from overdoing it at pickleball. One of these days his leg is going to fold over backwards at the knee. Well, maybe not, both of his knees are titanium and don’t fold backwards as readily.

I’m working on diet changes, getting Physical Therapy, and doing more Mindfulness Meditation. Maybe someday I will start being more mindful when not actually meditating. That should reduce the falling and tripping.

Other benefits of the meditation are the three refuges: the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha. The Buddha is not some kind of God. He was a man, albeit a fully realized man who devoted his life to helping others become realized. The dharma is the body of his teachings along with the wisdom of his followers over the last 2500 years. The sanghas are the groups of followers meeting to meditate, learn the dharma, and pay homage to the Buddha.

Sangas aren’t unique to Buddhism. Christians call it fellowship, the body of Christ. Human bonding is important for living a spiritual life. Sunday evenings, the Insight Meditation Community of Denver meets in an Episcopal church near downtown Denver. As always, it took some time for connections to form, but I now feel close to everyone there, even if they may be from California. In addition, meditating in a group is always special.

Someday science will figure out what the spiritual energy is that forms within and between people following a spiritual path. The energy is common to every spiritual path. Sometimes it is called mystical, but there are many who would say they aren’t mystics. The only thing blocking the bond is hate. People can feel a bond of hatred, but it is in no way spiritual.

My hate example is the Westboro Baptist Church in Topeka. One of their tenets is that God hates. Do you believe it? A friend is the Unitarian Universalist minister in Topeka. Their tenets are love and helping others. The Westboro congregation is actually at cross purposes with their beliefs. Their protests have brought people together all over the country to stand in opposition to hate. Love grows. Hate destroys.

Falling down the stairs two weeks ago has turned out to be a life changing event. I knew I was getting old, after all the URL you used to get here is DOFBILL, for Doddering Old Fart. I have been using it for several years. But, friends, this last excursion down the stairs hurt. It still hurts. I started physical therapy again for balance work. I haven’t been able to get motivated for doing anything. Getting here to the coffee shop to write took until noon today. I am usually here by 9:00 AM. All I want to do is lay in bed and watch U Tube videos.

I did manage to work with the painters the other day. Our new stretch of fence looks good. However, I dropped the tote tray full of painting tools and they all spilled. They are still on the floor. I talked to to Carol about all this, and she wisely figured out what is going on with me.

I am in mourning. I guess I should have figured it out by myself, but I was too numb. I retired in 2011, I sold the motorcycle. I knew I was more and more limited physically, but this fall brought it all home. At 74 years, I am old.

This was reinforced yesterday when I went for my three year endoscopy/colostomy. I got chewed out by the doctor for not following the rules. No caffein, no chocolate (!), no booze (I had already quit a year and a half ago), no spicy food, on and on. I told Carol if I can’t have spicy Mexican food, life isn’t worth living. What a stupid remark, as she not-so-gently pointed out.

I have limitations, have had them for years. I just had never gotten to the acceptance phase. Bouncing down the stairs feet first brought it all home. In John Mellencamp’s Jack and Diane, he sings “Oh,yeah, life goes on, long after the thrill of living is gone”. That line has had residency in my head for two weeks.

Well, the thrill is not gone. Some of the thrills, however, are gone. No mountain climbing. No motorcycling. No more solo four wheeling trips where I could stay stuck for a week before anyone came along. I have to let go of risky stuff. The odds have changed. I am an old man.

After mourning comes acceptance. I am in that process now. The sages say the task of elders is looking inward. I am doing Insight Meditation for that reason. My meditations do take me inward, but much of the time I am thinking about outer stuff. In fact the best inner work I do is at the keyboard. A good writing session sets the stage for good meditations.

Not all the outer world things have to go. I can still get into nature. The sunrise is still there. The Japanese Beetle season is about over. I still have a life. So, what’s the big deal already? There is my sense of humor, and it is intact. Part of me knows it is all right. If I can still make bad puns and turn phrases upside down I still love life. Carol would probably be happier if I had a more conventional sense of humor.

I haven’t mentioned the most important thing in my life. The people. Starting with Carol, my soul mate and the everlasting love of my life. All we do, all we are, and those morning cuddles. Her children, who have become my children as well. All our friends. The poignancy of losing friends. The memories. Yes I can let go and still live fully.

I am 74. I retired in 2011 at age 68 when I started noticing I wasn’t as sharp in responding to problems. I also noticed my co-workers giving me the easier jobs when on a project,I was used to wading right in, sometimes literally. It was a water plant, after all.

Now, other things have manifested. If it doesn’t hurt, it itches. I have arthritis and allergies. My balance problems keep me off the third step of the ladder. I was falling off. I fell on the stairs, broke two ribs. I gave up motorcycling, given my desire to stay alive (Just go to motorcycle crashes on YouTube.).

People are dying. Yes, they have doing it all my life, but now it’s old friends, classmates, a guy I was Best Man for. Not people I viewed as Old People, but my contemporaries. Does that mean I am an Old Person? Yep. Old people see their friends dying. You can also tell if you are old by falling down in a public place. People laugh if you are young. You are old if they rush over to help.

Then there is CRS. I have always had a poor memory, but this is getting ridiculous. When I hear someone’s name on meeting them I tell them I will forget it. I head downstairs to get something, do two or three things I see need doing, and go up without I went after. Also, people my age tend to be terrified when they start forgetting. Is it Alzheimer’s? Am I going to be a drooling vegetable? I try to stick to my rule about not worrying about things I have no control over, but it doesn’t always work.

A good thing: after my ADD diagnosis at age 59 with the therapy and medication I have more focus. I can even manage to focus on stuff I don’t like to do. I used to put off paying bills until my anxiety level forces me to sit down. Now, I can plan the time and actually follow the plan some of the time. I can write. I don’t have to go to work. I just spend my four pensions and watch our investments slowly diminish.

Writing is a good thing for an old dude to do. I can do it most any time, usually mornings. I go to a coffee shop where I am something of a regular and do some extroverting along with the writing. I always wanted to write, but could not maintain the focus to write for myself. With a deadline, the anxiety level activated my prefrontal cortex enough to allow me to get the words down. In college I wrote papers for Forestry majors and the like for $10.00 per page (long time ago).

Now I write for myself. I almost always write nonfiction, like most of my reading. As you can see from this website, I have a wide range of interests. That’s probably a function of an ADD shifting his attention all the time. I need to know. They say ADD’s occupy an evolutionary niche because their shifting attention enabled them to spot those brutes from the neighboring tribe or the saber-toothed tiger. Sentinels. Of course, we are also smart and charming. Someone has to keep the place stirred up.

I have written a little fiction, some very short stories and a longer short story when taking a class at the Lighthouse Writers Workshop here in Denver. Good people there, students and faculty. Naturally, some English majors, more interesting than engineers, although impoverished.

For me fiction is hard work. You have to create the world of the story and invent the characters. Good fiction also uses lots of metaphor. I am not very good in that area, mostly because it takes lots of practice. I usually write about shifting tectonic plates; not so much need for metaphor there.

I have taken to reading novels aloud to Carol just before bedtime. She likes mysteries written by women, she calls them novels of manners. Much of their focus is on character development and scene setting, so they are a good light reading genre. The reading is fostering an interest in fiction again. Can I produce a story about geologists? Maybe a story about 19th Century naturalists and biblical literalists. Have I mentioned I like history?

I will have to work on producing pieces longer than 550 words, however. I can do the short essays in one coffee shop session.

I am a slow learner, especially when I don’t want to learn what the universe is trying to get across. For some time now, the message is to slow down and act my age. I don’t want to! I want to be younger, stronger, not forgetful, with no signs of aging (well, I’m resigned to being bald).

Well guess what, I’m old, slow, weak, with a bit of a balance problem. In the last couple months I have fallen twice, fell off the ladder, and fell down the last step and broke two ribs. As I mentioned, I’m a slow learner. It’s shocking, I know, but I am going on seventy three years old. After the first two falls I saw my doctor. She gave me a prescription for physical therapy to help my balance. I didn’t go. I then fell off the ladder and down the stairs. Did you know that broken ribs hurt a lot?

After the ribs broke I went into a blue funk. At that point I had no choice. I hurt and couldn’t do anything but read. I can barely stand to watch TV. Then, horror, my iPad died. No Facebook, no words with friends, no left-wing politics, and no Donald Trump news.

Apple Rules! The Apple Store is in Cherry Creek Mall. The Apple Store is full of people, the rest of the mall is virtually empty except for the mall walkers. After the standard long wait I made it to the Genius Bar. The sheer arrogance of that company! The guy was nice and gave the standard digital solution. Reload the operating system, wiping all my data. Oops, that didn’t work, hardware problem. I walk out of the store with a new iPad.

Most everything transferred over. But. I can’t get to one of my email accounts, Yahoo is unresponsive, I am starting over with Words With Friends, and two days are gone. Computers teach us how to deal with frustration. To a point. I didn’t use the iPad as a Frisbee. The upside? Apple is a bit richer and the process took me off my aging crisis.

The odd thing about aging is that I still feel like me. The same me. Not a old me, just me. But, the body doesn’t feel the same. Even the mind has changed. I forget stuff. I have never been a good rememberer, but I’m worse now. The me I used to be never fell down the stairs. I fell , but not too often, just more than you do. Now I fall a lot more than you.

I know how to fall. Tuck and roll, keep the head up, pick a good spot to land if you can. The skills have served me well. Only two bad ones, one on the motorcycle that finished off my bad knee, and this stair and rib thing. Well, except for the fall that ended up taking my right little finger. For some reason, the universe has chosen falling to convince me that I am no longer the guy I used to be.

A Facebook Friend asked me if there was more damage than the broken ribs. My response: Yes. I am forced to accept that I am changed. Older. Slower. Weaker. Unbalanced (Wait, that’s always been true.), just not as physically competent as I used to be. A lot of bad stuff is going on. I am not even going to go into the health issues.

I’ve had good changes in recent years. I got my ADD diagnosed and got the medication and cognitive therapy that has changed my life. Just the diagnosis was a big deal. I am no longer a guy with a fatal flaw. I am a guy with ADD. It’s a brain disorder, not just that I am a fuckup.

The biggest change is that with the ADD treatment I now have the focus to write. Other than falling in love and marrying Carol, that is the most profound change in my life. I have two callings, writing and teaching. ADD kept me from both pursuits. Now, however I can write. I may be an old guy, but after all these years I have enough focus to write. After the rib thing I couldn’t write for a while-pain, both physical and mental.

Both kinds of pain are better now. I guess my old guy crisis is not as bad as I thought. The Buddhists say that pain is inevitable but suffering is optional, a choice. For a couple of weeks I suffered. Now my ribs just hurt, but they are feeling better every day. It is mostly over. I guess it is time to get on with life.